


I'll Always Come Back to You

by Hot_elf



Series: Dragon Age - series 3 (Morena Amell / Cassandra Hawke) [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-13 21:52:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hot_elf/pseuds/Hot_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders and Morena Amell first meet at the Tower when they're barely more than children. They both deal with the situation in the Circle in their own way... Rated M for implied violence and abuse.  Contains spoilers for my story "Murder at Vigil's Keep".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Chapter 1 - The Beginning**

She was the closest thing to a sister he had. When they brought her to the Tower, Morena was ten, a tiny, dark little girl with huge black eyes. He nicknamed her Pixie, and he took her under his wing. At thirteen, Anders knew everything he needed to know to survive. He taught her which templars she could trust, and which to avoid. He showed her all the secret nooks and crannies of the old fortress, places where they met in secret, away from prying eyes.

"Don't let them know we're friends, or they will use it to hurt us. Don't tell the others, they might be spies." _Don't, don't, don't_. A whole litany of cautions and warnings, and she soaked them all up, staring at him with her bright, clever eyes. She was a quick study, and soon they hatched plans together, keeping each other safe, having each other's back.

She took the blame for his first failed attempt at a fireball, knowing she wouldn't be punished as harshly as an older apprentice. He taught her where to find the forbidden books in the library, those that dealt with ancient magicks and rituals so obscure even the First Enchanter didn't know about them. Together they worked out elaborate escape plans, discussed means to destroy a phylactery, exchanged tips on how to distract the templars' attention. For almost two years, they were inseparable.

Then Callista, who was tall and blonde and already seventeen, showed him what boys and girls could do together, and for a while, he had little time for his friend. He was heady with the discovery of sex, especially when he realized that others found him attractive and that he pretty much had the pick of the other apprentices. Morena seemed unperturbed. He saw her hang around with Jowan and some of the other, younger kids, but she had learned her lesson well and didn't get close to anyone.

A week before she turned fourteen, he looked at her as they left the dining hall after breakfast, and he realized she had changed. Her slim body seemed to have developed exciting curves overnight, and there was something new in her posture, a certain awareness that made his throat go dry. Unfamiliar feelings towards her assailed him, and for once, he was unsure about whether to act on them. When she smiled at him, her head held up high and her lips slightly moist, he blushed and mumbled something incomprehensible, glad to escape into the school room.

Unfortunately he wasn't the only one who had seen the change in her. When he caught a glance of Ser Agravain's face at dinner and saw the single-minded focus with which the Templar was staring at her, an icy feeling spread in his stomach. They all knew about Agravain and his appetite for young girls. He was a handsome, powerfully built man in his late forties, good-looking in a cool, detached way, with his light blond hair and bright blue eyes. It was obvious he liked what he saw, and Anders could only watch in impotent fury as he approached another Templar and offered to take over his nightly watch in the apprentices' wing. He tried to get closer to Morena, to warn her, but when he saw her face he realized she already knew.

None of them was under any illusions as to her chances to avoid Agravain's attentions. They had seen it all before, and they knew it would be madness to report him. Greagoir would turn a blind eye on his favourite's shenanigans, and his word would always trump theirs. Still, Anders couldn't bring himself to stay away. Right after bedtime, he snuck out of his room and waited in front of hers, hidden behind a curtain, until he saw Agravain emerge, a smug smile on his face. As soon as it was safe to do so, he rushed over, knuckles scraping at the door.

"Go away." Her voice sounded calm. Too calm.

"Rena, it's me, Anders." Silence. "Please, Pixie, let me come in."

Another long moment of silence, then he heard her sigh. "All right."

She was sitting on the window sill, wearing only her nightgown. There was a faint bruise on her upper arm, but apart from that, she looked unharmed. But he wasn't fooled. He knew Agravain wouldn't have needed to use force to get what he wanted.

"Morena." He tried to put an arm around her shoulder, to hold her like he had always done when she was hurt, but she shied away.

"Don't-" She bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Anders. I... I just don't want anyone to touch me right now. I..."

"Of course." He sat down at her feet instead, looking up at her pale, beautiful face. Later he would realize that this was the moment when he became hers forever.

"He will pay." Morena didn't sound furious, just composed and determined. When he looked at her questioningly, she smiled, but her eyes were black and hard as onyx. "I will make him pay, and I will make sure this will stop."

He opened his mouth to point out that there was no way, that she would only endanger herself, but the look in her eyes shut him up. Instead, he nodded, and to his surprise, she reached out for him, finally letting him embrace her, hold her close. He softly stroked her back and kissed her hair, but he couldn't get rid of the feeling that it consoled him more than it did her.

Agravain returned on the following evening, and then for several more nights. Anders faithfully kept his watch outside Morena's door, sneaking in afterwards to give her what support he could offer. On the fourth night, the Templar came out with a dark look on his face and he rushed in to find Morena nursing a split lip.

"What in Andraste's-" Morena shushed him before he had finished his exclamation.

"Don't worry, Anders." To his surprise, she was smiling. "Ser Agravain just experienced some... performance issues."

When her meaning sunk in, he took her by the shoulders, almost shaking her. "Are you mad, Rena? This won't help you. He'll only blame it on you."

"Oh, I don't think he will." The expression on her face sent shivers down his spine. "He was angry at first, but now... You see, I tried my best to help him. I even suggested a cure. It's fortunate really that I know so much about potions, don't you think?"

He didn't dare press her further. Six weeks passed, and he had begun to think she had resigned herself to her fate. But then, one night, screams of pain and horror from the Templars' quarters woke them all. Anders was called up together with several other healers, but when they entered the mess room, they reeled in shock at the scene before their eyes. Ser Agravain was writhing naked on the floor in a pool of blood, his eyes unnaturally dilated, a strange, gurgling noise coming from his throat. A bloody dagger was lying next to him on the floor, and he was pressing a blood-soaked towel to his crotch. More blood trailed down from the corners of his mouth.

Ser Cullen was trying to restrain him, covered in blood himself, his face a mask of shock. "Maker's Mercy, he's cut off his own tongue," he was gasping. "And his..."

Morris, the senior healer, took charge immediately. "Some kind of hallucinatory potion, no doubt," he remarked wryly, casting a sleeping spell with a quick twist of his hand. Agravain's body relaxed immediately and his eyes closed. "We can take care of his wounds, of course, make sure he doesn't lose more blood." At a gesture from him, the other healers began to clean and close the wounds. "The effect of the potion will have worn off by the time he's awake, but he will remain mutilated. There's nothing we can do about cut-off body parts, I'm sorry to say."

"But what kind of potion would make a man do this?" Cullen was deathly pale.

Morris shrugged. "There are several that would cause delusions of this kind. Aquae lucidius comes to mind. Its effects are pleasant enough, but if overdosed it usually leads to this kind of ... self-inflicted damage."

"I still don't understand." Cullen seemed dazed. "Why would he take this... Aquae lucidius? Was he poisoned?"

The healer coughed discreetly. "I highly doubt it. The potion is well-known for its... stamina-enhancing effect. I'm afraid he's neither the first nor the last man who has sought help in this matter."

Cullen blushed deeply. "Oh. I see." He turned to face the assembled mages. "I hope I can rely on your discretion in this. I will report to the Knight-Commander immediately. I assume Ser Agravain will be taken away from the Tower as soon as he can be safely transported."

They all nodded, their trained faces showing hardly any emotion, but Anders' mind was racing. _Morena_. For a moment, he felt very cold.

* * *

Over the next few years, they remained close. He was the only one who knew why none of the other templars ever bothered Morena. The only one who noticed how she scratched them accidentally with a clothes pin, or asked them for help in picking up a broken glass. The only one who saw their eyes glaze over for the briefest of moments before they turned away, their attention on anything but her.

Morena spent hours in the library, and even more at Uldred's feet. She had become his star pupil, the one he trusted above all others with the secrets of his research. Watching the entranced expression on the senior enchanter's face, Anders couldn't help but wonder...

But he had his own battles to fight during those years. With every failed attempt at escape, his desperation grew. Morena was always there for him when he returned, ready to pick him up, to help him nurse his wounds, both of body and soul. After his sixth escapade, when he came back, nearly broken from his time spent in solitary confinement, they finally became lovers. He recognized the gesture for what it was, help offered to a friend in need of warmth and solace.

But they had underestimated what it would mean. Both had plenty of experience with other lovers by this time. Uncomplicated, brief trysts were as much part of life in the Tower as casting spells, one of the few pleasures not denied to the mages. But when their bodies joined, something took hold of them that neither could explain. Their eyes met, and they couldn't tear their gaze away from each other, not for a single moment, until they both cried out in ecstasy, their limbs so closely entwined there was hardly any room to move.

"Morena." Anders hardly recognized his own voice as he buried his face in her long black hair and vowed he would never love anyone else the way he loved her. When he looked up at her face, he saw a large tear rolling down her cheek.

"Anders. You're back." Her hand clenched around the folds of his robe, hastily pushed up in the urgency of their encounter.

 _I'll always come back to you._ If anyone could have made him give up on his escape plans, it would have been her. But she didn't ask him to.

When he disappeared again a few months later, and they told her he had died in the attempt to leave the Tower, her face remained calm and collected. No one saw her cry. Ever.

The news of the slaughter in the Tower reached Anders on his way to Denerim. Uldred and all his apprentices were dead, they told him, turned into abominations and killed by Grey Wardens. For a while, his heart beat faster every time he heard someone had survived the massacre, but her name was never mentioned. In the end, he gave up.

 


	2. Reunion

**Chapter 2 -** **Reunion**

He had been on his way to Amaranthine to meet with Namaya when the templars caught up with him. _'The templars caught up with me.' The story of my life._ He tasted the bitterness in his mouth at the thought, mingling with the blood from his split lip. They had not been gentle when they drained him. Ser Persse, who led the group, remembered him from the Tower.

"Anders. Coming home won't be as pleasant this time." The templar spat on the floor. "Everyone you knew is dead or gone."

Anders closed his eyes, feeling the pain return. He couldn't imagine the Tower without Morena. Without her smile when he made a bad joke. Without the way she would glance his way, so briefly that no one noticed, but long enough to let him know she was there. Without her sweet lips on his, her body vibrating under his hands.... He tried in vain to stop his train of thought, but there wasn't any distraction, not any more, not when he was locked up in a tiny room at a fortress they called "the Vigil".

They would stay here for a week or so, Persse told him, stock up on supplies, rest a little from the hard work of hunting down apostates. Then they would take him back to Kinloch.

But on the morning of the third day, he could hear screams, and no one brought him breakfast. As the noise of fighting got closer, he banged the door of his prison, desperate to know more, to get out, but no one answered. They had forgotten him. He could hear people screaming in pain and was considering blasting the door open with a fireball, when the latch finally moved.

"Anders?" It was Ser Vivien, the youngest of the templars, a pretty young boy with auburn locks and hazel eyes. Now his face was blood-spattered and his eyes wide with panic. "You're a healer, aren't you?"

When he nodded, Vivien grabbed his hand and dragged him out to the battlements. They passed a dead templar on the way, and next to him a creature whose foul appearance made Anders recoil in disgust. _Darkspawn!_ What was going on? But there was no time to think because only seconds later more of the creatures were swarming up the walls. They only just made it over to the little group of templars fighting desperately, backed up against a turret. Ser Persse was on the floor in their middle, bleeding profusely from a stomach wound.

"Heal him. You've got to save him." Vivien pushed Anders in the direction of the dying man and took his battle stance. He knelt down and began knitting together the injured flesh, even as his healer training told him it was hopeless. Around him the battle went on, and he dimly realized things were not going well. From the corner of his eyes, he could see one templar fall, then another. This was a lost cause if he had ever seen one.

He had to take his eyes off his patient for a split second to push one of the advancing creatures back with an energy bolt. When he looked down again, Persse's eyes had broken. And then Vivien was at his side, trying to shield him, desperately fighting off the vile creatures. The young knight looked glorious, his face shining with an almost religious fervour, his armour blood-spattered, his sword swinging in a high arc. And then a barbed arrow took him in the eye. Anders screamed when he saw him go down. For the first time in years, he lost all control of his magic. Curling up into a tight ball he pulled it all together, every last reserve he had, and then just let it burst out of the confines of his body.

The world went blindingly white. When he got up, carefully checking himself for injuries and finding none, he was surrounded by dead templars and dead darkspawn. And then the door to the battlements opened, and two silhouettes appeared: a robed mage and a knight.

"This... is not what it looks like," he began to stammer, but when he took a closer look at the mage, his heart stopped for a moment. He would have recognized Morena anywhere. She had changed, true, her posture different, her face harder, more determined, but there was no mistaking the features he had seen in every dream for the past two years. He wondered briefly if this was another dream, if the Fade was looking unusually real today, but then he saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes.

There was no time for greetings, however, as another wave of the creatures attacked. Morena threw him a lyrium potion and raised her staff. He watched in awe as a complicated series of spells took down at least half of the creatures. The knight made short work of the rest. He got in a few spells of his own at the end, but it was obvious she would have managed without him.

When the last foe had gone down, she made her way over to him, climbing over their dead bodies without a second glance at the slaughtered monstrosities. His face lit up, but then he noticed the way she held her hands and recognized their old sign from the Tower. _I don't know you_. It took all his control not to reach out for her, but he remembered. After all, he had taught her. _Never show them you care for anyone. When I do this with my hands, you stay aloof and pretend we're not friends_. He nodded almost imperceptibly and somehow managed to keep up his side of the ensuing conversation. All he knew was that she was alive, that he was with her again, and he could hardly take his eyes off her as they proceeded to fight their way through the Keep.

Much later, when the last darkspawn had been killed and the Keep's seneschal been rescued, some sort of normality began to settle over the fortress. He saw Morena's exhaustion in the lines of her shoulders as she followed the seneschal into the large throne room.

"Send the mage up to my quarters," he heard her say as she turned to go up. "He's a healer and I might be in need of his services."

When Varel motioned for him to follow her, he did so gladly. Without a word, they climbed the stairs to her room.

* * *

The door closed behind them and Morena walked over to the washstand in the corner, tearing off her heavy robe. It came away blood-stained, and he hissed when he saw the large wound on her flank. In a flash, he was at her side, instinct taking over as he cleaned the scrape with a wet cloth before placing his hand on it, sending his healing magic into the torn flesh. Morena winced briefly, but then she rested her head against his shoulders and closed her eyes.

"You were always such a lousy healer," he murmured against her hair.

She grinned and lightly elbowed him in the ribs. And just like that, everything came rushing back. All the good things they had shared. Her body in his arms. The scent of her hair. The taste of her lips as she turned around and kissed him, tentatively at first, then deeply, hungrily.

They were dirty and exhausted, bone-tired in fact, but Anders didn't care. He couldn't stop kissing her, while his hands were running feverishly over her naked stomach, tracing the new scars there, tearing at her breastband.

"Get out of these robes, they're filthy." Her tone was so reproachful that he laughed, feeling on the verge of hysteria. But then he kissed her again and again and somehow the robes came off and they made it over to the bed.

There was no refinement at all to their caresses, just an urgent hunger for the other, a need to touch, to taste, to feel. When he entered her, it was over almost immediately, but it didn't matter, none of it did. They just clung to each other, and maybe he was sobbing, he wasn't sure, but he knew he could feel her tears on his bare chest.

"I'll always come back to you." His drowsy murmur was the last thing she heard before they fell asleep in each others' arms, but it put a smile on her face. And then they drifted off, naked and vulnerable. Together.

* * *

He woke up a few hours later, at the first light of day, his body stiff and sore, his mind still lost in a pleasant haze. A small hand was ruffling his hair, and he squinted up to see Morena's face, serene as always, the hint of a smile on her full lips. She had bathed and put on a thin linen shift, and was now sitting on the bed, close to his head.

Anders stretched and reached out to pull her down into a kiss. "Come back to bed."

She laughed. "Again?"

"Why not?" He knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he didn't care. "I have a sudden urge to show you I can do better than last night." His fingers trailed down her spine, and he arched up so his lips touched her breasts through the thin linen, softly teasing her nipples.

"I don't doubt that for a moment." Her eyes darkened, and he felt her body respond, but she pushed him away. "Later, Anders. Tonight."

She got up and walked over to the window. "You need to wash. And we need to talk."

He got up with a sigh, and she led him through a door to a small but well-appointed bathroom. "The perks of being the Commander," she remarked dryly when she saw the expression on his face.

"So it's true?" He had picked up a few things down in the throne room. "You are the Hero of Ferelden?" He picked up the soap and went over to pick up a bucket of water.

She shrugged. "Yes. Commander of the Grey, Slayer of the Archdemon. I can't get used to it either."

He looked up from the arm he had been scrubbing. "Are the stories all true then? Dragons, werewolves, darkspawn?"

"Most of it." A shadow hushed over her face. "It wasn't quite as much fun as it sounds, though."

He looked back at her, his throat suddenly too constricted to speak clearly. "I thought you were dead. The Circle..."

"I know." Her face had become hard. "I was there. They're all dead, Anders. I was lucky to escape before it happened. But that's a long story..." She swallowed. "They told us you had died during your escape attempt, you know. Probably didn't want to admit it could be done..." Her voice trailed off.

"Rena." He had finished drying off and walked over to her, embracing her from behind. "I'm here. And I'll stay with you as long as you'll have me."

"Yes, about that..." Her voice sounded thoughtful. "I don't want anyone to know about us, Anders. We can tell them we knew each other in passing back in the Tower, but nothing more."

When he raised a questioning eyebrow, she turned in his arms so she was facing him, speaking intently. "Anders, you have no idea how hard it is to get them to accept me as their commander. A woman. A mage to boot. I can't afford any weaknesses." Her eyes went soft for a second. "You are my weakness."

He smiled sadly. She was echoing his own advice, given ten years ago when she was a frightened child. "We're not in the Tower any more, Morena."

She turned away with a sigh. "It's not so different, you know. There are still people watching, looking for our weak spots, waiting for their chance. I... I've had to make some pretty harsh decisions during the past two years, Anders. I am not exactly universally beloved."

He hesitated, but then he nodded. "Whatever you think is best."

* * *

They went their separate ways, and he saw little of her during the day. For the most part, she locked herself up in the study with Varel, trying to get a grip on what was going on at the Keep. In the late afternoon, trumpets were calling them to the gates.

He followed Morena out, together with Varel and the young knight, Mhairi. There was a dwarf, as well, a red-haired fighter who claimed to have been at Morena's side during the Blight.

Anders watched Morena go down on one knee before their visitor. "Your Majesty." Her voice was calm and clear. "What-"

But at this moment there was a commotion behind the Queen. A knight in templar armour pushed to the front. "My apologies, your Majesty. But this man is a dangerous criminal." _Rylock_.

He nearly lost it then, when he realized they would take him away again. He knew he couldn't take it anymore. Not again. Not now when he'd found Morena.

"I invoke the Right of Conscription." Morena's words took a moment to register. And then it all became a blur. Rylock's vehement protests. The Queen's rigid, disapproving face. Morena's hand taking his on the way to the Joining, her whispered “I'm so sorry, Anders” while Varel prepared the cup. He drained the vile liquid, all of it. Then he lost consciousness, and when he awoke, he was a Grey Warden.

Morena came to his room that night, her eyes so full of regret and guilt it nearly broke his heart. She gave herself to him completely, let him take her any way he wanted, to satisfy the violent greed that had taken hold of him. All through the night, she was his, only his, nothing held back. And when she snuck out in the morning, ready to put the mask of Commander back on, he sighed contentedly. She would always come back to him.

 


	3. Arrangements

**Chapter 3 - Arrangements**

"You're all sticky." Morena's eyes were full of laughter, and she looked incredibly young as she bowed down to kiss him, the taste of honey cakes still on her lips. They were lying naked on her bed, enjoying the unexpected warmth of a late autumn day. Soon, winter would come to the Keep, and they'd have to snuggle down under the covers or build roaring fires to keep warm.

They had settled in nicely during the past months. Anders couldn't recall ever having felt happier. He was free, his skills as a healer were appreciated, and he was with the woman he loved. Being a Warden wasn't so bad. True, their assignments were seldom pleasurable, and Morena had other priorities, more often than not. But for the first time in his life he had a home, friends, even a pet, since Morena had given him the stray kitten she'd found in the courtyard. Sometimes he even dared to hope he might have a future in this place.

Today Morena had sent the other Wardens off to Amaranthine and officially retired to her room to work on important papers. The door was locked, and no one would disturb them. They had a whole afternoon together - a rare treat that Anders was planning to enjoy to the full. He reached out for her neck and pulled her closer, until there was hardly any space between them.

"There are ways to get even stickier," he murmured between kisses, his hands caressing the soft skin of her lower back. "In fact, I have this idea..."

"You are impossible!" Morena's voice was stern, but he could see the glint in her eyes that said she was ready to be convinced.

"Mmmhmmm. You like it, don't you?" He rolled over with her, pinning her down to the mattress with his hips.

His lips moved lower down and he caught a nipple in his mouth, teasing gently at first, then flicking his tongue hard against her sensitive skin.

"Anders!" she cried out, her face flushed with arousal.

"You're so lovely." Anders pushed himself higher up and took a moment just to look at her. He knew her body so well, yet it seemed he would never get enough of her, never tire of her beauty. She looked breathtaking in the soft light of the afternoon sun, her skin like burnished gold, her long black locks spread out on the cushion.

It was strange, he mused. She was nothing like him, the other side to his coin, dark and petite where he was pale and tall, calm and serious where he tried to laugh it all off, always in control where he was content to let things happen. Even their magical abilities complemented each other perfectly. She had never mastered the complex healing spells that came so naturally to him. Instead she could tame the chaos of the darker energies that frightened him, make them do her bidding. She had never hesitated to go to the places he shied away from.

As if she had read his thoughts, she looked at him, a question in her eyes. "Trust me?"

He nodded without hesitation, and she twisted a little in his arms to reach for the dagger on her bedside table. Her eyes never left his as she placed a tiny cut on her pulse, waited until a few drops of blood had seeped out and then cut his arm as well. She let the drops mingle with hers, then dipped her finger in the sluggish red liquid with a few whispered words and smeared a little on his lips.

"Taste." Her voice sounded dark and raspy. He licked his lips, savouring the unfamiliar tang, and watched in fascination as she lapped up the rest of the blood with her small tongue. For an instant it tingled, an unfamiliar energy coursing through his veins, and then it hit him with full force. There was such a rush of feeling that it took him a moment to understand, but then his eyes widened in amazement.

He felt _everything_ she did. Every twinge of desire, every shiver of lust ran through him just as it did through her. When he bowed down to caress her breasts again, he could _feel_ what he was doing to her. And at the same time he was still fully aware of his own body, of her hands trailing down his belly, her nails scratching over sensitive skin, her legs wrapped around his hips. It was the most mind-blowing experience imaginable. Morena's eyes were wide open. She was trembling like a leaf, and he realized it was the same for her. Somehow that excited him even more, knowing she would feel how much he wanted her, how urgently he needed to be inside her, _now_ , no more waiting, no more playing. 

And then he was pushing into her warmth and he could _still_ feel it all, and it was almost more than he could take. The limits of their bodies blurred, everything was heat, lust, desire. All thought ended and together they tumbled over the edge of the abyss, falling, swirling, floating through a world without substance, without barriers.

Anders didn't know how much time had passed when he came to his senses again, but the light in the room had become dim. With a small flick of his fingers, he lit a few candles.

He was trembling, both with the intensity of the experience and with the realization of how much she trusted him. To open herself up so completely to him... "Damn it, Rena, what kind of spell-"

"One of my own." The note of pride in her voice was unmistakable. "It was Zevran who gave me the idea."

"The assassin?" She had told him about the Blight Years, without glossing over the fact that she had taken other lovers. They both knew it wasn't important, wouldn't affect the bond they had.

"He told me once this was the one thing he would love to experience. To be on the receiving end of his own caresses, to truly know what they felt like for his partner." Morena smiled, lost in the memory. "He had it perfected to an art, you see. Making love, giving pleasure."

She shook herself and her face hardened. He could see her mind was already busy again, planning, scheming, trying to anticipate every contingency.

With a sigh, she rolled on her stomach. "I'm going to sleep with Nathaniel."

Anders raised an eyebrow at her matter-of-factness. "I take it he doesn't get a say in the matter?"

"Oh, come on, Anders." Morena threw him a dark look. "He wants me. I'm not blind."

"He does," Anders admitted. It was true enough. The angry glances Nathaniel had been throwing her way ever since she had made him a Warden carried enough heat for everyone to see. "But why do you want to?"

Morena sighed. "He is so... difficult. So stubborn. Always questioning my authority. Just yesterday he gave Garevel an order that directly contradicted mine and I had to discipline him. One of these days he's going to get so worked up that he leaves. But I need him. We'd have been killed several times without him and his bow, you know. And the people here in the Keep and in Amaranthine... They look up to him. He's a Howe, and they accept him even if they hate me." She chewed her lip. "It's the only way."

Anders' face darkened, and she raised a surprised eyebrow. "What's the matter? It won't mean a thing, you know that. I've slept with plenty of other men in the past few years, but you are different. You-"

"It's not that." He shook his head. "It's just... Nate is a friend of sorts, I guess. And he's a decent chap. I don't like the idea of playing him like that." He looked at her searchingly. "Are you going to..."

She nodded. "I think I will have to. He's not the type to do what I want just because he shares my bed." Morena's smile became predatory. "It's good to know I have other methods of persuasion at my disposal."

Anders sighed, and she shrugged. "I know it's not nice. But it's necessary. And he'll never know." She stretched voluptuously. "Come on. We have a few more hours. Let's make the most of it."

His objections seemed so much less valid when she kissed him. 

 

* * *

Over the course of the next weeks Anders watched as she made Nathaniel fall for her, body and soul. He couldn't help but admire her subtlety. During the day, nothing in either Morena's or Nathaniel's behaviour indicated they were anything more than commander and subordinate. The affair was handled with the utmost discretion. Yet at the same time their relationship seemed to be the worst kept secret ever. Everyone knew about it, and most people seemed to approve.

Morena was careful not to show any favouritism, but her whole demeanour became a tiny bit softer. And Nathaniel still questioned her decisions when he disagreed, but he did so with increased respect, and he could usually be won over by her arguments.

If Anders hadn't known about the game Morena was playing, he would have been convinced that he was witnessing the beginning of a wonderful romance. Nathaniel lost his grumpy look, and Morena fairly glowed with happiness. It was almost enough to make him jealous.

 _Almost. Not quite_. His hands closed around the small piece of parchment in his pocket. He knew the note by heart. _I miss you. Tonight. You know where_. They had their secret places in the Keep, just as they’d had in the Tower, and they alternated between them, always careful to avoid any suspicion.

When he arrived at their meeting place, a small unused room in the south wing of the Keep, Morena was already waiting for him. He barely had time to lock the door behind him, before she was in his arms, clinging to his shoulders.

"Anders." Her voice sounded strained, and she looked tired. "It's so good to have you back." She pulled him over to the large bed and buried her face in his robes.

He frowned when he undressed her and found the bruises and bite marks covering her neck and shoulders. "What in the Maker's-" He could barely restrain his anger. "Morena, what's going on? Is he hurting you?"

She shook her head, a tiny smile playing around her full lips. "Don't worry. Our Nate just likes to play a little rough. Trust me, he takes as good as he gives. It makes things easier, actually. He never notices when-"

He shook his head and put a finger on her lips. "I don't want to know." His fingers danced over her skin, healing magic pouring from their tips, and the bruises faded. The soft, dusky skin was perfect again. "Be careful, Rena. One of these days you'll go too far." His throat tightened. "I couldn't live without you, love. Never."

"Calm down, Anders." She pulled him down for a kiss. "You won't have to. I know what I'm doing."

He claimed her lips hungrily, losing himself in her once more, her body, her sweet whispers, her eyes. No, there was no need to be jealous. She had come back to him. She always would.


	4. Filling the Emptiness

**Chapter 4 - Filling the Emptiness**

Anders walked down the stairs and headed toward the dining room door, a small smile playing around his lips. _Tonight._ He had sent a message to Morena, and tonight she'd be his. There had been few opportunities for such secret meetings lately, Nathaniel being jealous and possessive. Anders had savoured every one of their trysts, every kiss, every embrace. In a way, the secrecy made it even better, more exciting.

He was about to open the door, his stomach impatiently demanding breakfast, when he heard hurried footsteps on the stairs behind him. When he turned around, he was immediately gripped by apprehension. Nathaniel came running toward him, half-naked, his hair a mess and his eyes wild. "She's dead! Anders, Morena is dead!"

Everything seemed to freeze, a numbness settling over him as his mind refused to process the words. "What-"

But Nathaniel pushed past him, throwing open the door and repeating his announcement to a room full of Wardens. Loghain MacTir immediately took charge. Anders mechanically answered his questions, still unable to feel anything but the icy cold spreading from his stomach. _Up to her room, yes. Maybe- But Nate says she's dead. Morena's dead._ There was no way he could wrap his mind around the concept.

And then he was upstairs, with no memory of how he'd gotten there, and there she was, naked on the floor. He didn't even have to touch her; he could sense it from where he was standing. No spark of life. She was gone.

Everything became a blur after that. Instinctively he fell back into the old responses, years of Tower training asserting themselves. _Conceal your feelings. Don't ever show how much you hurt. Hide behind silliness, banter, flippancy, but never, ever let them see what gets to you._ Answering Loghain's questions. Examining Morena's dead body, that empty husk that no longer held any meaning. Clinging to the safety of the healer's jargon, the healer's knowledge.

Anders couldn't have said how he managed, but he got through it all. Only when the door of his room closed behind him did he allow himself to break down. Curled up on his bed, with no one but Pounce for company, he cried for hours, desperate, flaming hot tears. On and on he sobbed until he was too tired for more than a whimper. _Why, why, why? Not Morena, never Morena._ They'd been through so much, they'd always prevailed, and now she was gone.

* * *

When more people died, Anders tried to muster some sort of interest in the proceedings. He knew Loghain and Nathaniel were trying hard to find the murderer. Everyone else was afraid, either of being the next victim, or of being found out. Not him. He would have welcomed death at this point. When his own secret came out, all he regretted was the pain it caused Nathaniel. The sorrow of losing his only friend overshadowed the vague relief he felt when the killer was exposed.

And then it was over. People went back to business. There were gaps at the table, sure, but for the most part, life just went on. Zevran left as soon as the snow melted. Loghain had taken over as Acting Commander. Nathaniel became his trusted second-in-command, almost like the son the older man had never had. Together they took on the arduous task of sobering up Alistair, with moderate success. One day Maric's son just disappeared. Rumour had it that he was headed for the Free Marches.

* * *

The dreams were the worst part. Not the nightmares, Anders could deal with them. No, the dreams when she was alive, back in his arms, and he could feel her, taste her, smell the scent of her hair, only to wake up alone. He was lonely, so desperately lonely. With each day it sank in deeper. He'd lost everything. His love, his friends, his home. His future.

One morning Loghain burst into his room on some urgent errant. He frowned when he took in the scene. Anders, sitting in an armchair with Pounce on his lap, his robe covered in fine cat hairs. Hair balls and cat toys on the floor, half-empty milk bowls on the table.

Loghain rubbed his eyes and sneezed violently. "That cat has to go. It's making you soft."

Anders blanched. "No. Not Pounce. Loghain, I-"

"Keeping _pets_ is unbecoming for a Warden." Loghain's voice was dripping with contempt. "Get a mabari if you need company!"

No amount of begging or wheedling could make the Commander change his mind. In the end, Anders found a good home for Ser Pounce-a-lot in Amaranthine, but he never forgave Loghain. With his little friend gone, there was nothing left between him and the emptiness, the longing, the loss.

* * *

Spring came, and Justice returned from Amaranthine. The spirit had spent all winter with Aura, Kristoff's widow, in an attempt to atone for taking possession of her beloved's corpse. When he returned to the Keep, his eyes seemed more hollow than ever, and an almost tangible sense of gloom emanated from his decaying body.

One night Anders stayed at his side after dinner, drawn by the darkness that matched his own. "Justice. Why did you come back? You seemed happy at Aura's side."

The spirit looked away into the distance. "Kristoff's body is... showing disturbing wear and tear. Aura said she couldn't bear to watch it any longer. She sent me away."

Anders took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. That must have been... sad. Painful."

Justice shook his head. "I am a spirit. I do not feel sorrow or pain."

"You're sure?" Anders laughed mirthlessly. "You look pretty sorrowful to me. Well, if what you say is true, I envy you."

Justice wasn't put off by his bitterness. To his surprise, Anders found that he could talk to him, tell him all about Morena, precisely because the spirit had no understanding of human passions and vices. There was no judgement, only curiosity and sincere bafflement. They took to spending the evenings together in Anders' room, forming a kind of bond, a tentative friendship.

Justice had no patience with the mage's vague dreams of freedom and equality. "Don't just complain about oppression! Strike a blow against your oppressors. Help others. Save them from their fate. Apathy is a weakness."

Anders brushed him off with flippant answers and excuses, but he couldn't deny that Justice's arguments were beginning to make an impression on him. Everything seemed so clear and simple to the spirit's eyes. _Justice is righteous. Justice is hard._

At the end of summer, it became obvious that not even Anders' healing magic could put off the inevitable any longer.

"Your time is up, my friend." The mage sighed. "There's nothing more I can do for this body."

"True." Justice shook his head. "But I've been thinking, Anders..."

* * *

Possessing a living body. At first it seemed like a mad idea. Becoming a demon's host was every mage's worst nightmare, after all. But this was Justice. He was no demon but a friendly spirit, and he'd certainly never consider the act without a mortal's express permission. Still, a year ago Anders would have rejected the thought outright. Now, however...  Together they might be able to make a difference. What else was there for him, with Morena gone?

It took him several days to make up his mind, to pluck up the courage, but the actual joining was surprisingly simple. Anders did his best not to fight against the invading spirit, even if his instincts screamed at him to resist. For a second, his sight went black and he almost fainted, but there was no pain, no big bang, no drama. Kristoff's body simply slumped to the ground and dissolved.

 _Justice?_ He listened for an echo inside. No, that was not how it worked, apparently. But if he closed his eyes and focussed, he could feel it. _Memories. Thoughts. Not mine._ There was a whole new world inside his head. It was both frightening and exhilarating.

The decision sealed his fate with the Wardens, however. When he explained what had happened, when they first saw the blue glow in his eyes, most of them didn't hide their fear and distrust. _Abomination_. They didn't even bother to whisper.

* * *

A few weeks later Rolan came along, a former templar who insisted on joining the Wardens and called him _brother_. Anders wasn't fooled for a moment. _Once a templar, always a templar._ When Rolan betrayed him, it came as no surprise.

The templars didn't take him. He was too powerful for them now. Raising his staff, he sent out a wave of energy that knocked them to the ground, and then he took them out, one by one, five knights and a templar hunter. He saved Rolan for last, taking a savage pleasure in squeezing the life force out of the traitor.

"I'll show you why mages are feared!" He was screaming, he realized, but he couldn't stop himself. "This is for every mage you killed or made tranquil! For all the children you took from their parents' home and locked up in the Tower. For every broken and twisted soul you created. Every single one shall be avenged!"

By the time reinforcements arrived, he was long gone. Free at last. Free from the Circle, free from the Wardens. But he was on the run once more. And this time there would be no Morena to come back to, no love, no tenderness, no pleasant dreams. All that was left was the fight for justice.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to zevgirl for being the best beta ever.


End file.
